


Legendary Defender

by Pholo



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Protective Keith (Voltron), Protective Shiro (Voltron), SHEITH - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-10
Updated: 2017-11-26
Packaged: 2019-01-31 12:38:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,409
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12682062
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pholo/pseuds/Pholo
Summary: Ficlets based onthese protective prompts, suggested by various Tumblr users.1. "You can stop hugging me now."2. "I'd die for you."3. "I thought I'd lost you."





	1. "You can stop hugging me now"

It’s strange, being back on the Castle. Keith had gotten used to the cold shadows of the Blade ships. In contrast, the Castle of Lions feels too bright and flashy. Keith feels like he’s under a spotlight everywhere he goes. Lance catches him squinting up at the hall lights and laughs.

“It’s just—” Lance says, when Keith cocks an eyebrow. “You look like you’ve just seen the sun after like, years of cryosleep. Where the hell have they been keeping you?”

But he’s being dramatic. It wasn’t like Keith had been trapped in a hole for three months. There’d been light in the training rooms, and on the main deck. What Keith had really missed from his time away was physical touch. He hadn’t realized how much he’d come to rely on his teammate’s hugs–their back-claps; their arm-grabs and shoulder-shakes–until he left to train with the Blade, who were by nature averse to physical contact. Now, after months of solitude, Keith winces at his friends’ touches. It’s going to take him a while to wade back into that easy intimacy.

So when Shiro, who up until this point has maintained a respectful distance from Keith, stalks up to him one night and hugs him like he means to merge with him, Keith feels the world drop out from under his feet. The air leaves his lungs. It’s too much all at once–but somehow Keith doesn’t care. He relishes the pain of it, at home at last under Shiro’s arms.

The relief turns to worry, though, as the seconds tick by without reprieve. Normally Shiro would have backed away by now.

“Shiro,” Keith prompts. Maybe Shiro needs an out. “You can stop hugging me now.”

Shiro only turns his head lower against Keith’s neck. His breath tickles his skin, and Keith represses a shudder.

Shiro’s voice is wet when he says,

“I can’t lose you.”

Keith doesn’t understand. “You haven’t,” he says, running a hand down Shiro’s back. “I’m right here.”

“Lotor told me about the barrier.” Ah. There it is. Keith’s hand stutters to a stop, pressed to the dip of his shoulder blades. He takes a deep breath.

“Shiro.”

“Keith. Please…” Shiro doesn’t seem to know how to finish the sentence. “If you died, I…don’t know how I would keep going. I need you, Keith. Just know that I–” His voice breaks. “Please god, if you have to do something like that again. Please just know that I love you.”

Keith feels his heart splinter. His arms loop around Shiro’s back. He holds him close as they both tremble.


	2. "I'd die for you"

It’s been a long time since their last spar. Keith fights differently now. The Blade took his spark and honed it into something spear-pointed. Before, he fought like a firework—now he works cooly, with a Blade-like air of aloof cunning. Shiro feels a sharp pang at the disparity. Something feels broken about their sparring session; the rhythm is all wrong as they dance around each other on the mat.

For years Shiro has worked to keep Keith focused. Now, ducking as Keith slashes a staff over his head, he struggles with the urge to distract him; snap his concentration. Stoke back the flames.

Before Shiro can formulate a plan, Keith swipes his feet out from under him. He topples to the ground, and Keith seizes the opportunity. There’s a clap of knees and a scrape of fabric, and Shiro is pinned to the floor.

“Auch,” Shiro grumbles. A laugh rattles up his ribcage. “Well done.”

Keith doesn’t let go. His arms tighten around Shiros’. “You weren’t even trying.”

“I was!”

“You were distracted." 

Because he’s too strung out to care, Shiro says, “I was thinking about you.”

Silence. Shiro feels Keith’s weight on his arms lessen. Then the ground shifts as Keith drags him sideways, onto his back. He pins Shiro anew, this time with his back to the floor.

Keith leans in, his face inches from Shiro’s. He hovers, his fingers bunched around his shoulders, hips braced on either side of his torso–and waits.

Shiro feels like he should say something. He opens his mouth–closes it again. Keith’s eyes are bright. They search Shiro’s face for–what? A confirmation? Permission?

Finally, Keith reaches down. He twists the fabric of Shiro’s shirt in his hands.

“I’d do anything for you,” he says. Shiro gets the feeling he’s talking around something. “I’d kill for you. I’d die for you." 

If Shiro was speechless before, he’s not even sure he exists now. He flounders in the face of Keith’s declaration.

Slowly, Shiro raises a hand; his left, the one that can fully feel. He dares to cup Keith’s jaw.

"Anything?” he repeats, distantly.

Keith’s Adam’s apple bobs. His nod is a small thing–scared but determined.

Shiro takes a sharp breath. “Then–” he says. “Keith. Treasure yourself. Be kinder to yourself.” He moves his other hand, placing the palm over Keith’s heart. “Hold on to who you are.”

For a while Keith is still under Shiro’s hand. Then he ducks his head, far enough for his bangs to cover his eyes. Slowly, he lowers himself onto Shiro’s frame.

Shiro guides him down, and they lay there on the floor, close enough to echo each other’s heartbeats.

“Can you try, Keith?” Shiro begs, voice barely a whisper. “For me?

Keith’s mouth brushes the skin of Shiro’s neck–by accident or not, Shiro can’t tell. His heart leaps.

"Okay.” Keith murmurs. “I’ll try.”


	3. "I thought I'd lost you"

Keith had told him, the second time he woke up on Earth. He’d regained consciousness in Keith’s shack, bundled up in the makeshift nest of Keith’s couch, and felt warm arms around his back; a face turned against his neck.

“I knew you’d come back,” Keith had said.

And then again—a year later, as Keith scrambled to yank the rebel helmet from Shiro’s head. “Keith,” Shiro had spluttered. “Keith, Keith…”

“Shiro,” Keith choked. “I knew you were alive. I knew you’d come back—”

And then the helmet came loose, and Shiro could barely see for the sudden flow of oxygen; for the relieved tears that made the hangar lights swim. Keith’s hands were on his face; his shoulders; the back of his neck. Shiro probably stank of sweat and Galra medicine, but Keith didn’t seem to care. He crushed Shiro to his chest and held him until the others loaded up a pod.

This time…

It’s the third time Shiro has come back from the dead. He’s busy picking his way across an outskirt system, unable to find a way back to Voltron, when he gets word of a rebel unit on a nearby dwarf planet.

They’re suspicious of him, at first. Everyone knows the Black Paladin died in the battle against Lotor. But after a day of debate they agree to call Voltron for a second opinion.

Shiro doesn’t get to see the actual video call. The rebels keep him in a chamber below ground, with a cot and a toilet and a little slot in the door for meals. He barely has time to sit down before his door clangs open.

Keith stands in the doorway, dressed messily in his civilian clothes. He looks like he was caught in the middle of a training session. There are bags under his eyes; a pale cast to his face.

Keith opens his mouth, and this time Shiro gets,

“I thought I’d lost you.”

Shiro feels his heart break as Keith screws his palms over his eyes. He coils back against the doorframe.

“I thought—” The words are wrenched around a sob. “This time I really thought I'd—”

“Keith,” Shiro says. He crosses to him before he can think, and wraps his arms around Keith’s too-slender frame. Keith’s breath shudders out of him, sharp and fast and wet—and then he’s clutching at Shiro like he’s trying to drag him out of a ravine, like if he loses his grip for one second Shiro will slip back into the abyss.

“Shiro,” he rasps. His shoulders hitch as he cries, his fingers digging into Shiro’s shirt. “Shiro…”

“It’s okay,” Shiro tells him. He turns his head enough to press a kiss to Keith’s neck. Keith chokes out his name again. “It’s okay. It’s okay…”

“You’re really here.”

“I’m really here,” Shiro murmurs. His eyes sting as he combs his hand down Keith’s back; adds another kiss to the crown of his head. “Right here.”

**Author's Note:**

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